


Blood of the Willing

by roguefaerie (samidha)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Character Turned Into Vampire, Enthusiastic Consent, Fantasy, M/M, Pirates, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rescue, Vampire Turning, Vampires, Werewolf Pack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 11:13:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15314268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samidha/pseuds/roguefaerie
Summary: Dariel expected to die.





	Blood of the Willing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [neverminetohold](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverminetohold/gifts).



1.

Dariel had first found refuge in the trees when he had dragged himself, bleeding, from the ship and through the water, along the beach; all while expecting to die.

The blood drinker had stolen aboard the ship saying that he could play fiddle. He did not give a name, and it was not asked of him. For the ship's crew fell one by one into his thrall.

Dariel knew tales of night creatures, and many others, but he had not accounted for how deadly they might be, how cunning. 

And he, the last, had watched each man aboard the ship die, or heard their cries, half lust and half pain. 

These were each his men. Together they had worked to seize control and work as a well-seasoned crew would. Once liberated, they had escaped capture by untold numbers of military ships. These were the same as those they had manned at one time, and they knew enough tactics to evade them, though they remained a target. The ships had come steadily, for they were wanted men for seeking the waves, and to sail.

And now to a man they were gone, destroyed at the hands of the fiddler who had known the perfect lies to tell. They had fallen under his spell, and Dariel found himself the very last.

2.

He had expected to die. He was sure of this even as he felt enjoyment in the worst moments of his predicament, a fact that sent horror coursing through him. 

He could not process what was happening to him and so he expected death. He would not, could not think of all the ways his life would elongate instead, becoming complicated by new needs and restrictions, new enmities that had nothing to do with status as a known pirate, or his skin or eyes.

On the last day of his mortal life, the fiddler grinned up at him as the first rays of light threatened in the sky. He would think of it later this way. With new blood coursing through him, the false fiddler threw Dari overboard.

He hit the waves, and in his weakened state the strength had long since flooded out of him. He had landed close to the shore, yes, but also the light. He felt certain every second was bringing him closer to his end. 

He was just beginning to thirst.

3\. 

Dariel knew there was no love lost between him and his creator. He knew that he may never again feel love, being as he was. There were long nights of hunger and thirst punctuated only by the hunt of forest animals. And he learned quickly to leave the meat, and that only the blood would still the tremor in his cream-coffee hands, still darkened though he felt bloodless so often.

So it was for many months, while he slept beneath the earth at the foot of a tree. Until the day that he found the wolves.

His golden eyes met their angry white eyes. They that moved as wolves but knew to stand upon two feet. They were those who knew blood of innocents flowed freely where their claws came to rest. He knew it was possible for fear to overtake him in this, his first truly matched battle since his transformation. Yet he heard the cries of a mortal hiding deep within the nearby ransacked cabin. The sounds were quiet and weak as the mortal tried not to be heard. 

Dari knew that he must take this person out of the path of the wolves. Yet he was so hungry, and weak himself. He knew he would look fierce and wild and angry, as the fiddler had looked.

There was no pretending he could avoid this fight. There were things that needed to be done. A life to save, if it could come to that at all.

He stilled his mind quickly as he always had in the moments before a sea battle. He drew the wolves toward him. His reflexes were quick and ruinous despite his somewhat weakened state, and he had at his disposal the element of surprise, as in many an act of piracy.

He tore at the necks of the wolfmen and he did not allow himself to feel remorse as one by one they dropped, guttural and thick noises dying in their throats.

He knew that among these creatures there was a man like his own men, and he would not let the wolves get the best of whoever it was.

4\. 

When they were face to face, the mortal quaked with fear at his ordeal. It was also clear by his face that he could see his rescuer was absolutely other. But he, a mortal man, took Dari’s hand. He was perhaps enthralled by Dariel’s eyes, or his power, but that would be something worth living with as they sought safety.

They ran deeper still into the woods, neither speaking. Dari was relieved to know how deep the vegetation grew, though his heart was heavy leaving his camp, and now with a mortal (blood) so tender and quiet, in tow. 

He listened to the beating of the mortal’s heart, but in the intensity of the moment his hunger was overtaken by a wish to find refuge for them both.

5\. 

The man surprised him by somehow reaching for and remaining within a state of calm despite their predicament. So quickly things had changed for the mortal and yet--

They were leaning against the trees in the sudden quiet under fresh canopy Dariel had never seen before, though he had hunted these woods for months now.

“You saved my life,” the mortal said. “From the wolves. Your skin is cold and your eyes are gold. I know what these things mean.” And without fear, the mortal touched Dari’s cheek. Almost as if he had been waiting for Dari himself.

“Your name,” Dariel asked. The words came in a croak. 

“Mimmin,” said the mortal. “We have run faster than light, and you carried me.”

“It was very dangerous for you there.” 

“And now?”

Dariel lowered his gaze and dipped his head. “You are deeper in the wood. And…”

Yes, Mimmin was calm, but Dariel knew the false calm of repressed fear as any battle-hardened creature would. Still, he would see this through to the end. The man had become his charge.

“And you must know that you saved my life,” Mimmin said.

The mortal’s eyes were chestnut brown and earnest. Dari wondered how they would shine if they were golden as his had become.

“You are parched,” the mortal said. “I know anyone who has already done this much for me would not go on to hurt me.”

Would he be wild, then, suckling on a human neck?

Over the coming days and weeks, Dariel would ask himself this countless times.

They watched each other as Dari came to the slow realization that the man had known the potential risk from the very first moments they had seen each other at the cabin.

He had taken Dariel’s hand with trust.

 

Dariel cleared his throat. “When it was me in this position, there had come a fiddler, and I thought it was his music that guided him, but it was….his monstrosity.”

“I see nothing monstrous in your gaze. I know you and your heart. For I have run from peril with you, and I know it was peril to us both. You need to drink.”

Mimmin watched him closely as his golden eyes became suddenly bloodshot and filled with strain and sadness. “I can’t.”

“My blood. It sings to you.” Mimmin stood, craning upwards and offered himself.

All without the scent of fear.

“You could be under my thrall.”

“And so? You saved my life. This is the least I could do.”

It would almost be flippant if it were not objectively true. It had been simple to dispatch them, however, and he--

He was so close. Mimmin leaned in, the hot mist of his breath passed against Dariel’s mouth, so close to his skin-rending teeth.

As Minnin said he knew Dariel’s heart, Dariel knew much of what was in the mortal's mind. The knowledge was growing by the moment.

At least he could allow the mortal a kiss he craved, he realized. Mimmin was not exactly like a typical man to be found on land, and if he wished this-- it could be given.

And so he did.

They kissed, and it was the fire of everything Dari had ever wanted.

6.

“You can’t enthrall me, not like others. Your deeds were true,” Mimmin said, leaning in again some days later, when still neither had left the other’s side for very long. “I am willing.”

7.

And so, it was from the willing that Dariel drank, and he allowed Mimmin to kiss him, as a pirate might. So many times.

With the kiss of a vampire came the desire for more. And they had no illusions about wanting to stay together after this amount of time, and to heal.

8.

The change came soon after.

They became one, briefly, when Mimmin knowingly bared his neck that night and instinct took over. There was no mistaking that Mimmin was asking directly for what he wanted, and Dariel was only so strong. Soon they would sleep side by side in a hollow beneath blood soaked earth, and trees.

9.

The blood bond held fast. Mimmin took to it without fear, and that lack of fear was intoxicating. Dariel knew he had his new lover’s blessing, his quiet but resolute encouragement. Mimmin even guided his movements gently. 

Though Dariel’s heart would have hammered hard at any other time when his heart held a beat, he recognized this for what it was. He held Mimmin through it all, and knowing he need not be wracked with guilt. 

They slept enfolded together, holding on tight, two pairs of golden eyes closed against the light. 

There was a way they had been meant for each other all along; one of the land and one of the sea.

10.

When they passed close to the shore, both would become restless and weary at once. And so they stayed in the forest, where their love had built up and they had grown roots down. Dariel did not go mad for human blood, though Mimmin would have loved him even if he had. He had nightmares of that last desperate swim and Mimmin had his own of wolves on two legs. They were frequent, and numerous, and filled them each with dread. But in their forest home there was a quiet under the canopy to act as a balm. And, gradually, healing became theirs.

And together they were there to watch the trees grow. And to hear the birds sing. Even in the night.

**Author's Note:**

> Belatedly added note. This fic is a bit historical, a bit fantasy. I have added some elements but included all elements of the request that I could, which made this fic a mix of dark and light. Hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
